Hermione's Besa
by fiorita
Summary: A tale of forbidden love, dark humor, foreign countries, self-discovery, the downfall of an empire, a dance with death, and all the magical moments in between. "A holy sanctuary, the prayer to a God, the regret of her given path – nothing could halt the inevitable." H/S: Canon.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Hermione didn't understand how she ended up here, standing in front of a parsonage. She couldn't fathom how the universe had mustered up the will to endlessly challenge and confuse her. How had the young eager witch six years ago become the frowning woman wondering the abandoned streets of a village unknown? How had her sense of self-identity mutilated so violently that she could barely concentrate on any task ahead? Even the simple goal of showering in the morning took disciplined effort.

For the fact was so plainly clear, Hermione Granger had lost her ability to hope. She no longer anticipated a future that would be safe for her children. She could no longer envision a beautiful cottage bordering the shimmering sea, water lilies guiding to the steps of the porch and a small yard with a swing set and cream colored patio. And even some chairs and a table for Harry, Ron, Ginny and herself to drink morning tea and reminisce on their adventurous escapades during their youth. Lord Voldemort would be a whimsical memory instead of a foreboding threat. That fantasy vaporized in thin air as soon as the reality of the past couple months surged with great velocity in her mind.

She knew there was no possible option left. Curiosity came at a price and she would eventually have to pay. Now, it seemed quite naïve of her to believe that when the truth surfaces, the universe will be corrected. But the truth had crippled her, gave her a sense of helplessness. She was just an eighteen year old with. Sure, she had magical powers – and of course she could defend herself if the time ever arose – but could she protect everyone else? What was this going to cost and was it even worth it? Hermione was a logical person, even a bit shrewd in some eyes, but she was no fool. She had spent months gathering her research and preparing for this decision. But standing there, in front of a building that preserved the posterity of a past life forced her to re-examine her own.

As she tightened her wrinkled black cloak around her shoulders, Hermione imagined what her parents would think of her, how they remembered her. When she was eleven, leaving for Hogwarts for the first time, she recalled the fear so strong her heart nearly stopped before boarding the train. She had clutched at her father's burgundy coat when she hugged him, and her father had realized that the enthusiasm she'd been feigning for these past months was just an attempt to mask his daughter's insecurities. Hermione had known that coming from a family of Muggleborns put her at a great disadvantage from the other students of her grade. They were all going to be well-versed in this culture of magic but the only knowledge she could acquire would come from her studies.

Her father had stroked her boisterous curls that resembled the woman he fell in love with fifteen years ago. She was a direct resemblance of her mother, even while she was shaking in his arms, seeking comfort. He smoothed her tendrils from her damp cheeks in a comforting gesture and held her soft face in his palms. "You must not fear your fate, Hermione. Stay true to yourself and you'll have nothing to fear." He unhooked her arms and patted her back in the direction of the doors of the train. "We'll always love you, no matter what."

Would they love her now? She couldn't help think. Would they love and support my decisions, encourage me to do the impossible? If they knew this predicament, would her father retrieve those words he confidently put into her head, drive far, far away from the platform, and force her to the world she belongs – among the Muggles? Who would she be now? And suddenly, she felt paralyzed from a cold draft that forced her eyelids closed to withstand it.

A holy sanctuary, the prayer to a God, the regret of her given path – nothing could halt the inevitable.

Her choice had already been made and no attempt to retrace her steps would be possible. She must follow the direction of wind against all odds. The promise she committed to earlier that year was holier than a vow to a superior being. This sanction defined her purpose to the magical world; the reason she was bestowed with a power her ancestry could not access.

During her studies, Hermione had memorized the nation's geography, food, religion, history, and mythology. The legend of Constantin's _besa_ was one that stressed the importance of honoring one's word for eternity, even upon death.

Hermione tightened the scarf around her neck, feeling anew with warmth. He had visited her, this mystical soul, to remind her of her promise. Perhaps it was a sign of the universe, but whatever happened upon her in her utter loneliness from three months of isolation, believed in her. And that was enough. That was enough for Hermione to step away from the parsonage and hurry through the empty, yellowing valley.

_She would go to Albania to find the Dark Lord._


	2. Hermione Almost Attended A Wedding

Chapter One: The Time Hermione Thought She Would Attend a Wedding

The morning of Bill and Fleur's wedding, Hermione was finally granted a couple of hours to herself. For the past couple of weeks, Mrs. Weasley had not let her out of her sight. She occupied her with a vast variety of menial tasks: gardening the flowers in the backyard, preparing the lights in the tent, dusting the furniture in the living room, and even rearranging the refrigerator. Hermione knew that Mrs. Weasley wanted to separate her from Ron and Harry, with good reason too. She did not want them planning among themselves. As their past proved, the three of them always encountered chaos and trouble. For once, Mrs. Weasley was praying for a perfect day for her beloved son. He deserved happiness and normality but that wouldn't be possible if Hermione, Ron, and Harry were conceiving revenge.

Little to anyone's knowledge, the three had been meeting during the middle of the night and they did have some sketch of a plan that orbited around one agenda: find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. It would be impossible to defeat Voldemort any other way. It was the key to his everlasting success. But Hermione knew the real reason why Harry was so keen to immediately take action. The Dark Lord was responsible for the death of Harry's mentor, Dumbledore, and her best friend could not hold out another moment that would give him the advantage of continuing his slaughter. The longer they waited, the more deaths would be reported in the Daily Prophet.

So Hermione rose early that day, before the sun even touched the sky, and decided that any moment to spare must be invested wisely. She would continue her research, unearth anything that would guide them to Voldemort's other treasures. Although she held Mrs. Weasley in the utmost respect, the Order of the Phoenix members never respected their decisions. Harry was determined to leave them out of their plan.

She slipped out of her covers, her gaze set on the sleeping form in the bed beside her. Ginny had the spent the night with Fred and George cleaning the attic, so there was a slim chance she would be up at five in the morning. Yet Ginny seemed suspicious of their every move yesterday after her conversation with Harry.

As she slipped out of the room, dressed in a plain, white T-shirt and black jeans, she thought about what the rest of the day would bring. Since the night that the Order helped Harry escape the Dursey's house, Hermione could not shake the anxiety from her mind. The Death Eaters were malicious, deceitful group of wizards. They seemed to anticipate the Order's every move. They were probably already aware that Harry Potter wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts, given the recent circumstances. And although Harry planned to stay at the Burrow until the end of the summer, the three did not think that much time would be granted.

She walked down the stairs with as much caution as possible, careful of the distinguishable creaks in the floorboard that might betray her plan. Hermione cursed herself for leaving her bag downstairs, but perhaps the backyard would give her the privacy she needed.

When the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had visited the Burrow the day before, he bought with him a bag that held items Dumbledore had wanted to bequeath to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The book he wanted her to have, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard, _was surely a strange one. It was a collection of magical fairytales written in Runes, which would require some time to decode. Hermione needed these quick couple of hours to do just that. Dumbledore was a wise but deliberate wizard – he wouldn't just bestow a gift to be whimsical; there was something in the book that was essential to their request. He trusted her to figure out the code.

Hermione slipped out of the backdoor, shutting the door behind her without a click. She rushed down the stairs, bag in tow, seeking the bench hidden behind a bush. Much to her surprise, it wasn't vacant. A familiar redhead was staring absently at the rising sun, his face pale and gaunt.

It was the groom: Bill Weasley.

"Are you alright, Bill?" she whispered, inching in his direction without wishing to startle him but capture his attention.

This seemed to break his concentration. He turned toward the voice, with a feigned smile that didn't seem to reach his distressed eyes. "Hermione!"

He gestured to the seat beside him. "You can sit, I'm just watching the sun rise. Couldn't sleep."

Hermione raised her brows, feeling that she was intruding on his private moment. "Oh, are you feeling nervous about the wedding? Bill, that's perfectly normal –"

"Oh no," he cut her off quickly, realizing her train of thought. With a chuckle, Bill began rubbing his eyes. He didn't anticipate his love for Fleur being doubted and it was honestly amusing that anyone would believe otherwise. "Hermione, Fleur is my soul mate. I can't wait to be her husband."

Hermione couldn't conceal her grin. Despite the Weasley's uninhibited bickering and tomfoolery, they were the most compassionate and warm-hearted people she knew. Despite the chaos of the Wizarding world around them, their naked love for their family and friends could never be challenged. The Dark Lord could never take that away from them.

"It's just that," he continued in a sullen tone. "I don't want _them _to ruin this for us. Fleur doesn't deserve that."

Hermione consoled him the only way she could. Patting his forearm, she reassured him with a fact that couldn't be refuted. "Fleur will be happy as long as you're there, Bill. The rest is just so, y'know, your mum won't feel like she's taking something from you guys. You both deserve a beautiful ceremony."

Bill merely nodded. His tight smile revealed just how unconvincing Hermione was. But the truth was, she too had a sense of dread but she merely attributed it to the Minister's visit.

"You three are planning something, aren't you?" For the first time since she came outside, Bill looked her in the eye.

Hermione began fumbling with her bag on the floor, placing it on her lap before switching it to the small amount of space between them, then returning it to her lap once more. His honesty meant he deserved the same from her but her promise to Harry and Ron to remain as innocent as possible left her at a crossroads.

"That's okay," he assured her. Hermione's hesitation said more than enough. "If I know Harry and Ron at all, I don't need to ask. But since you confirmed my beliefs," he grinned slyly at her, reminiscent of the twins, and reached into his pocket. Bill took out a dark brown box shaped like a rectangle.

"A present on your wedding day? Seems sort of contradictory." He handed it to her but she reluctantly looked at him. "What is it?"

"Just open it," he encouraged brightly, still grinning.

Hermione reached for the box and removed the top. "A Time-Turner? But I thought the Ministry destroyed all of them!" she exclaimed, eagerly removing the gold chain from the cushion. She fingered the hourglass shape, eyes shining with amazement. Ever since she handed the one McGonagall gave her when she was a Third Year, Hermione never thought she'd be able to get her hands on another one again.

But how was this possible?

"How do you think I passed _twelve_ O. when I went to Hogwarts?" he retorted. Bill glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened. "And ironically, time seems to have escaped me. Mum's probably already awake." He jumped up from the bench. "See ya' at the ceremony, Hermione."

And like Dumbledore, Bill disappeared without explaining anything.

Hermione remained at the bench, dumbfounded. Why would Bill give her this precious gem? Why hadn't he returned it upon his departure from Hogwarts? How could he trust her so willingly with a piece of magic that had the potential to impact the time-space continuum? All these questions bubbled up from her throat but Hermione had no one to ask. She couldn't tell Harry or Ron about this because, quite frankly, they'd probably want to misuse it. Her mind flashed to McGonagall's serious warnings when she was thirteen. If a witch or wizard misuses the Time-Tuner and is seen by someone in the past, well, it would surely have some serious consequences.

No, she knew she would have to save it for a situation that demanded it. Hermione decided that she would place it back in it's box, hide it in the depth of her bag along with the other supplies, and pretend like her morning with Bill never even happened. That would be the best decision. Perhaps when they left the Burrow, she would share with them her morning with Bill.

Even though Hermione didn't get the opportunity to peruse the book, she was glad that she encountered the eldest Weasley. He always innately understood their motives without judging them as harshly as, let's say, Remus and Mr. Weasley. Even Kingsley Shacklebolt kept a keen eye on the three of them whenever he was around. But this, this Time Turner, was Bill's blessing. She was grateful for that. It was his way of saying, "I support your decision."

With the sun up, Hermione figured she better make her way back inside the house, too. Mrs. Weasley would suspect anything and they could afford her trust for the rest of the summer. Or else she'd too her best to keep them separated all the time – even after the wedding. Hermione rubbed her left eye wearily as she grabbed her bag with her right. It was exhausting staying up past the regular hours of the night to plan their next move while the rest of the Weasley's slept. Harry was determined to unravel the mystery of the other missing Horacruxes but they had no information to work with except what was left to them from Dumbledore: the Deluminator, the Golden Snitch, and the Gryffindor sword that was intended to be in his possession.

The house was quiet, Hermione noticed, as she walked through the kitchen into the living room. Since no one was awake, she figured she should just return to Ginny's room and try to catch another hour of sleep.

As soon as Hermione stepped into the room, she dropped her bag on the floor and slipped under the covers, falling fast asleep within seconds.

At exactly 9:45, Hermione's head shot up from the pillow and her eyes were wide with fright. She looked at Ginny's bed, which was now empty. She must have gone downstairs to get breakfast, Hermione thought. As her mind drifted from the physical world, she began to remember bits of her dream, the reason why she shot of the bed. She was rushing through an abandoned street, fruit was lying on the floor and the island seemed exotic and otherworldly. Although it was empty, seemed abandoned, but Hermione was sure that someone was chasing after her.

She finally reached the end of the road and in the sky, a sketch of Snape's face was in the sky and he was sneering down at her with severe disapproval, almost irritated by her presence but she didn't tust the person behind her. So Hermione continued running in Snape's direction even though he clearly didn't want her to come near him.

Then, Hermione seemed to forget entirely about that nightmare when she remembered her conversation with Bill Weasley that morning. But then, maybe that was part of the dream too. Hermione reached for her bag from the floor and began assessing its contents. Her wand, a couple of wardrobes, soap, toilet paper, tooth brush, a couple of books that would be essential to have at all times, and – there it was – a dark brown rectangular box. The exact one from this morning.

Hermione took the Time-Turner out of its cushion slowly and stroked the case the supported the hourglass. She stared at the clock ticking above her. It was 9:59.

The seconds became slower. Tick, tick, tick.

And quite a bit louder.

She didn't know why but her heart began beating a little bit faster.

For reasons also unknown, Hermione couldn't stop staring at the hourglass in her hand.

And then, it was exactly ten o'clock.

The hour glass became hot in her hands so she let her grip go, expecting it to fall onto the ground but it floated in front of her. The chain coiled around her neck and the sand in the hourglass began vibrating beneath the glass.

The Time-Turner, without Hermione's touch or influence, began turning uncontrollably. She tried to stop it but the heat forced her to pull back. It wasn't allowing her to interrupt its job.

It felt like hours before the hourglass finally stilled.

And when Hermione looked up, she realized something that made her fall to her knees.

She was no longer at the Burrow. The whole scene had transformed into one quite familiar.

This was Hogwarts. She was back here, so the Time-Turner must've taken her years back. What if this was her first year? She would have to wait seven years to get back to her real time? Hermione started to panic. Even worse, what if this was decades behind?

Would that even be possible?

As Hermione stood there in the grass, she tried to recall her research on Time-Turners. Upon using it, the witch or wizard would be taken to the exact spot where they were at that time. So her past self must have been outside during these hours. She needed to find a spot where she could think and figure out a plan.

Hermione rushed to one the trees and checked her surroundings. This spot was always empty; she didn't remember ever visiting it herself during her time at Hogwarts.

Hermione began brainstorming.

If she was at Hogwarts, that must mean that Dumbledore is still alive. She couldn't talk to her past selves because let's face it, that would freak her out. But the one person that could help her figure out her situation, at any time, would be Dumbledore.

She needed to find him.

The problem was, Hermione could not be seen but she needed to get into Hogwarts.

She looked down at the watch on her wrist. It was almost eleven o'clock. The Prefects stop their patrolling at midnight so she would have to wait another hour.

Little did Hermione know, this would feel like the longest hour of her life.


End file.
